


eloquence of unheard choices

by jacksgreyson



Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Gen, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Pre-Canon, Shinigami, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreyson
Summary: Magic and chakra, strength of will and summoning contracts: best case scenarios often involve the careful application of loopholes.Or, four times the Lucky Sevens surprised the Wizarding World and one time they were surprised instead.[[Chapter 2 is just Behind the Scenes/Author's Notes]]
Relationships: Golden Trio & Lucky Sevens | Team 7, Harry Potter & Nara Shikako, Hatake Kakashi & Luna Lovegood, Hogwarts Staff & Lucky Sevens | Team 7, Luna Lovegood & Pakkun, Regulus Black & Nara Shikako
Comments: 32
Kudos: 394
Collections: Dreaming of Sunshine Exchange 2019 B, Heliocentrism — a Dreaming of Sunshine recursive collection





	1. eloquence of unheard choices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saebest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saebest/gifts).



_1) at my mother’s table_

Regulus is dying. He is dying and he deserves it, the drink of despair coursing through his veins like poison, like the shame and guilt and horror at his own actions on behalf of the Dark Lord. Far too belated to help his victims, far too late to do them any good.

But not too late to avenge them, he hopes for a brief, fleeting moment, imagining an impossible, bright future where Kreacher somehow destroys the Dark Lord’s Horcrux, his foolish older brother’s gang of friends actually manage to defeat the Death Eaters, and perhaps Albus Dumbledore--the only man the Dark Lord ever feared--would finally do his damn duty and fight.

But this drop of optimism is washed away, a flood of fear drowning it, and all these damned water metaphors do nothing because he is so thirsty, dying of it.

The lake! The lake, so close and so full. If he can just get to the shore, just dip his hand in, just to drink, a small drink.

Just close enough to reach.

Regulus forgets, in his delirium and desperation, that there is more in the lake than just water. Or perhaps he doesn’t forget. Perhaps he is just so thirsty, so eager to quench this magical thirst that all he cares about is the water, the soothing, cooling water.

He drags himself to the shore, face mere inches above the lake’s surface, his reflection already the grotesque corpse he knows it is destined to become.

He reaches for the water, his reflection reaching back. Then through. Pale, skeletal arm breaching the surface and grabbing, pulling, dragging, drowning!

Regulus is dying. He is dying and he deserves it and is prepared for it…

… but Regulus doesn’t want to die.

I don’t want to die, he thinks, even as he weakly thrashes against the inferi’s grip. I don’t want to die, he thinks, as more of them appear, grabbing and pulling, into the water that he had been so desperate to reach before.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want it to end like this. Someone help me!

“Yeah, alright,” a voice says, young and completely out of place, right before a sword--crackling and bright--slashes through the arms holding him down, “But mostly because I really hate the undead.”

Now freed, Regulus splutters, hacking and coughing up water. He thirsts, still, but the mortal danger has reordered his priorities. 

A hand fists itself into the back of his robes. He flinches away at first, instinctively, before he realizes he’s not being dragged down, but lifted up. To his feet. And his wand--which he had somehow forgotten in all this, discarded in his delirious crawl to the lake’s edge--is placed into his hand. He’s shaking so hard he can barely grip it, but the hand that secures him, while smaller, is far steadier.

“Are you okay?” says the voice behind the hand, a young woman shorter than him in strange garb. Behind her, Regulus can spot more people in similarly unfamiliar clothing--a young man near her age with dark hair, fending off inferi with a sword of white light; an older man with hair gone grey but sprightly nonetheless, somehow walking on the surface of the lake; and an alarming number of identical blondes all of whom are, horrifyingly, trying to fight the inferi with their fists.

“Fire,” Regulus rasps out, because he is soaked and dying and either he or the world has gone mad but on the off chance neither of them have, he may as well aid in their continued survival. “Inferi are weak to fire.”

“Huh, that’s useful,” the young woman says, before calling out something to her fellows--each of them changing tack in response, the dark haired man going so far as to _set himself on fire_. The woman, however, looks up at Regulus, perfectly calm, and so he suppresses his confusion and panic. “Thank you for that intel,” she says, “You’ve got some kind of toxin in your system, but I don’t know enough healing to filter it out of your system for you. I could try something else if it needs urgent treatment?”

A kind offer, on top of already saving his life, but Regulus isn’t going to let a novice attempt mysterious medical practices on his person, “Not fatal,” he says, voice rough from the near drowning and also the parched throat, “No antidote, but it’ll pass…” He hesitates, a foolish, weak habit, but he also doesn’t want to seem ungrateful by asking for more. But he is still so thirsty. “Water?” 

“Sure,” she says with an easy shrug, conjuring--or, no, it’s not transfiguration at all--a metal canteen into her hand, “I have a packet you can add to it, if you need electrolyte--oh, well, okay...” she trails off as Regulus behaves positively boorish, snatching the canteen from her and drinking from it without even allowing her to finish speaking.

But he drinks and he drinks, the canteen endless, and without the threat of inferi--or, that is, with an increasingly lowered threat of inferi--the quenching of his thirst is the only thing his mind can focus on.

That is, until the young woman says, “Now let’s talk about how to stop a creepy old snake guy from becoming immortal.”

* * *

_2) upright in the gloom_

“It’s a flaming cup with enough sentience to be tricked by genjutsu but not enough sentience to protect itself from being tricked and they let it pick teenagers for a dangerous competition based on names?” Sasuke summarizes dryly after Shikako has translated the situation as best she could.

“It’s a goblet... and the tournament isn’t any more dangerous from the chuunin exams, from what I can tell,” Shikako demurs, a defense so mild it hardly counts.

“But they don’t even get to have their teammates!” Naruto exclaims, causing the circle of magicians to eye them warily. Kakashi-sensei, with his lone visible eye, does his best to reciprocate.

Shikako shrugs.

“And even after they already knew it was tampered with,” Sasuke continues, almost horrified with how stupid the tale is, “They decided to accept the flaming cup’s--”

“--goblet--”

“--chosen champions. Including the fourth one. Even though the flaming cup--”

“--goblet--”

“--is only supposed to choose three. And they didn’t even bring it to a sealing master to get it checked?” Sasuke finishes, so incredulous it hurts. He joins Kakashi-sensei in staring down the circle of magicians with disparaging disbelief.

“... yes,” Shikako says, voice thick with secondhand embarrassment on behalf of the Hogwarts faculty, “... that’s correct.”

“Then I don’t see why they should have a problem with us being here,” Sasuke says stubbornly, crossing his arms to punctuate.

Shikako snorts, “You don’t see why they might have a problem with a team of unknown people suddenly appearing in the middle of their school? Their school full of children.” Konoha would have immediately responded with considerable force to an infiltration attempt at the Academy, suspicious staring is mild in comparison. Although that may just be proving Sasuke’s point:

“Their school full of children that they let a flaming cup--”

“--goblet--”

“--whatever, goblet, fine--it still decides their fates.” Sasuke huffs.

“And ours, apparently,” Kakashi-sensei finally says. Given the way Sasuke tenses further and falls silent at that, their sensei has hit on the uncomfortable, unspoken question.

Why did the Goblet of Fire bring them here?

“Maybe Goblet-san was trying to fix its mistake,” Naruto suggests, breaking the oppressive silence.

The rest of the team look at him in various level of surprise and confusion.

“What?” Shikako asks.

“Well, Goblet-san made a mistake when it was under a genjutsu, right?” Naruto explains, “And even though it’s not Goblet-san’s fault, it still put a kid who’s not even a genin yet into the chuunin exams.”

Not exactly right, but close enough. “Okay,” Shikako says, encouragingly.

“But there’s only supposed to be one person per village in this exam.” Naruto continues, the mixed metaphors somehow following his train of thought, “And there was already a genin for this village. Which means the Academy kid doesn’t have a village, even though he’s still in the exam.”

Shikako nods, “Right… so?”

“Well, maybe we’re supposed to be his village. Maybe that’s why Goblet-san brought us here! Maybe we’re here to make sure nothing bad happens to the Academy kid outside of the exams and also train him so he can put up a good fight against the genin!” Naruto finishes, excited at the prospect of a cool mission and a fun competition, even if it’s not him competing.

Shikako considers it, turns to Sasuke and Kakashi-sensei who are also considering it. Sasuke rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything against the idea. Kakashi-sensei shrugs, “I don’t see why not. He can’t be any more trouble than you three.”

Shikako smiles, “That settles it, then,” she says, before turning to the Hogwarts faculty and explaining their decision.

Even through the language barrier, it’s easy to interpret the surprise, confusion, and denial that the adult magicians respond with...

… but the scrawny kid with glasses looks at them with hope on his face so, really, that decides the matter right there and then.

* * *

_3) those unending fables_

Harry opens the door.

Harry opens the door not knowing what will be inside, but hoping it’ll be something new, something useful, something that will _actually make the DA strong enough to defend themselves_ and not just a bunch of school children waving disarming spells against seasoned killers.

Harry opens the door not knowing what will be inside, because as he paced back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in that seventh floor hallway, his head had been muddled. Thoughts twisting about what the DA needed, what he needed to help the DA, what they needed to give them an edge that wouldn’t have the Order continuously dismissing them, what they needed to be able to survive the Death Eaters.

Harry opens the door, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not this: an expansive blue sky, trees and grass, a stream cutting through a field with a red bridge above it. In the distance, the tops of unusually shaped buildings, and even further away a massive mountain with what looks like faces carved into it. Up close, three strangers all looking at him in surprise.

Harry opens the door and must make some kind of sound because Ron and Hermione--on watch for the Inquisitorial Squad--go to his side, peeking into the doorway, and spotting the… room?... for themselves. Meanwhile, two of the strangers turn to the third, expectant, only for her to shrug and say something in a strange language.

“Bloody hell, this place is huge!” Ron says, looking about, “I didn’t know the Room could make places this big.”

“I don’t think the Room made this place,” Hermione says, “I mean, unless this is all exceptionally thorough illusionary magic--which we’ve proven it’s not since we were able to interact with objects in the Room last week--then it’s more likely the Room created an opening to wherever this is,” she rambled, hypotheses on the Room’s capabilities discarded, adjusted, and created as she spoke, “Since I doubt even Hogwarts has enough magic to create a whole environment much less people,”

Speaking of people. “Er, hello?” Harry tries, because the whole ‘unknown language’ thing doesn’t bode well, but given from their point of view Harry and Ron and Hermione all just invaded their space, the strangers are being surprisingly non hostile.

“Hello,” the woman says, and before Harry can wonder if it’s just a matter of her repeating what he said, she continues, “You’re far from home, aren’t you?”

“Not really?” Harry says.

“Yeah, on this side of the door, we’re still home.” Ron adds, gesturing to what, for them is still the Hogwarts seventh floor hallway.

“Fair enough.” the woman accedes easily, “I suppose this makes us temporary neighbors, then.”

Her two companions stare, watchful but not concerned. Also, a little blankly. Not the same way Crabbe and Goyle do as they flank Malfoy--as if they had a quota on thoughts and didn’t want to use it up too soon--but literally uncomprehending of the words being said.

“So…” the woman continues, “Why are you here?” she asks simply, which Harry appreciates. “Or, rather, why did you have _your_ ‘here’ meet _our_ ‘here’?” Which is less simple, but not entirely wrong, he supposes.

Why did the Room bring them here?

“That’s it?” Hermione asks, tone in that mix of baffled and pointed she gets whenever he and Ron slack off on their essays in order to do basically anything else instead, “Not who we are or how we got here? Just, why?”

“Well, who you are largely depends on why you’ve brought yourselves unannounced to my home. At this point, you’re strangers, so your names don’t mean nearly as much as your intentions. As for the how,” the woman shrugs again, “it’s not the first time I’ve dealt with an interdimensional rift, though you are far more pleasant to deal with than an eldritch god of destruction and suffering.”

What?

“What?” Hermione asks, the question strangled and warped with confusion, curiosity, and horror.

One of her companions, the one with dark hair, says something. Looking at her and the, no doubt, alarmed expressions on their faces. She responds sheepishly, the blonde laughs, and the dark haired man rolls his eyes.

“Sorry about that. Sasuke says I shouldn’t inflict my terrible sense of humor on other people,” the woman says which explains absolutely nothing, “But since he’s not my captain anymore, he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.”

Now that’s something, “Captain like in an army?”

“Could be for quidditch,” Ron mutters, as if compelled to say so even though he didn’t really believe it himself.

“No,” the woman says, “not for the army.” Which brings Harry’s hopes down just a little, before she continues, “For covert ops. Although, during the war, I technically outranked him. But that’s mostly because at the start I had to deal with managing the platoons while he actually got deployed with them.”

“So you know how to run an army,” Harry says, that twisted web of thoughts untangling.

“Harry!” Hermione gasps, though he can’t tell what she means by it.

The woman shrugs, “Enough.”

“And you won your war? Everyone survived?” Harry asks, voice thick with something, he doesn’t know, but it makes the woman stare for a long, riveting moment, before her expression and tone both soften.

“We won,” she says, simply, deliberately stepping aside the second question, “Is that why you’re here? You need an army?”

“Yeah,” Ron says.

“No!” Hermione says.

Harry doesn’t listen to their argument, doesn’t turn to look at them. He maintains eye contact with the woman and says, “We need to win a war.”

She turns to her companions, says something to them and they listen, consider, nod. The dark haired man conjures a hawk, speaks to it before sending it flying back towards the town in the distance. The blonde man _duplicates himself_ for a moment, before the copy disappears in a puff of smoke.

Then the woman turns back to him and smiles, a sharp and vicious thing, “We can help with that.” 

* * *

_4) shrines never made_

When Shikako walks through the vast emptiness of what she hopes is sealing space and not, in fact, purgatory she walks for what must be an entire lifetime before finding something else. Someone else, that is.

The man with dark hair, green eyes, and a shimmering cloak looks at her and asks, “Oh, you too?”

“Me too what?” Shikako asks, the words so simple they crash into each other, molecules of air in an atmosphere that doesn’t exist. Not here.

He pauses, confused by her confusion, which frankly seems a little unfair given he barely asked a proper question and there is literally nothing about this place that could provide context.

“Are you Death?” he asks instead, which is so far on the other side of answerability of questions that Shikako immediately denies it:

“No,” she says, quick and sharp. Then, slower and softer, “... are you?”

“I’m… fairly sure I’m not,” he answers, the lack of confidence not exactly inspiring.

They stare at each other.

There is nothing else in this place to look at.

“What did you mean by you too?” Shikako finally asks, because if this is her only company for who knows how long, it’d be best not to alienate him. “I’m Shikako, by the way.”

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you,” says Harry, pleasantries making for a quick response, “And, well, I assumed maybe you also collected the Hallows.” He says the last word with almost visible importance, but it’s tinged with an almost conflicted contempt.

Shikako looks down at herself. Ever since hammerspace, she never really carried much on her person--so she doesn’t have much in the way of pouches or pockets. Even if she did, would they still contain the physical items or is it all just a mental representation of herself? Can she even access hammerspace from here?

“What are the Hallows?” she asks instead. Maybe she did collect them but without knowing what they are.

“Do you want the quick version or the fairy tale?” Harry asks.

Shikako looks around them, the open blankness that stretches in all directions, then back at Harry. “I don’t think there’s anything else I’m scheduled for today,” she says dryly, before adding far more sincerely, “And I do like a good story.”

She crosses her legs and lowers herself to the not-ground, as if she were a child waiting for story time. She even pats the not-ground next to her in invitation.

“It’s not that good a story,” Harry mutters, but he drops down beside her, so Shikako certainly won’t complain.

“It starts with a river, a broken bridge, and three brothers…” he begins, reluctant, but the words and the cadence speaks of a story often told and well remembered, and the recitation of it takes over before long.

He’s right, though, it’s not that good a story. Two of the brothers die in grisly, gruesome ways, and while the third had a fulfilling life it doesn’t make up for the bleak undertone of the whole thing. Not to mention the real life effects of the items: Dark Lords and Headmasters; traitors and loyal servants; inheritance, rights by conquest, futile attempts at immortality, and the boy stuck in the middle of it all.

“So because you’re the only one who owned all of them at the same time, you’re stuck here?” Shikako asks, now that would be a terrible ending.

“I guess,” Harry says, fiddling with the stick-- _the_ Deathstick--in his hand.

“Your Headmaster got awfully close,” Shikako says, “He had the cloak and the wand before you went to school. If he had been proactive about getting rid of Tom instead of waiting to use you, he could’ve looked into Tom’s significant places and found the ring way earlier.”

The wide-eyed expression on Harry’s face could just as easily be heartbreak or horror, maybe both.

She looks away from his face, somewhat guiltily, eyes the dark, cracked ring on his finger instead. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ve encountered anything like those items before,” Shikako says, shrugging.

“Yeah, I figured not, but still. I had to ask,” Harry says with a sigh.

“It could be I--maybe--might know…” Shikako starts, stops, stammers her way into an explanation, “... given your story and what I can remember of what I was working on before I got here--wherever here is--I think I might know why I also ended up here.”

He stares at her, curiosity obvious.

“It could still be two different things, though,” Shikako hedges. She doesn’t want to be misleading, after all, “I mean, we could both be dead and this is a really weird afterlife.”

“Great,” Harry says with all the cheer it deserves. “And the other option?”

She hesitates, “Before I ended up here, I was working on a technique. Well, trying to reverse engineer a technique, more like,” Shikako pauses, “Actually, now that I think of it, there could be a third option.”

“You didn’t even finish saying the second option,” Harry prompts impatiently.

“What was the title again? Master of Death?” Shikako asks, seeking confirmation.

Harry nods, then makes a gesture as if to say ‘get on with it’.

“Well... the technique I was trying to reverse engineer was to summon the god of death in order to have it enter a contract,” Shikako admits, grimacing at how awful it sounds spoken out loud.

Harry stares at her.

He says nothing.

She understands. If someone implied she was the god of death she doesn’t know what she would say either.

“There’s always the third option which is a fun combination of the two?” she says, grimace now a painful apologetic smile.

Still, Harry says nothing.

“I could have failed horribly and you’re supposed to tell me a story about the hubris of humankind trying to outsmart Death before I shuffle off in whatever direction of afterlife I’m supposed to go in,” she says, even though Harry probably isn’t all that interested in what she has to say now. Though she does appreciate the fact that he didn’t just get up and storm off...

... after a not-lifetime of awkward silence, Harry finally says, “I think you’re selling yourself short here.”

Confused, Shikako asks, “How so?”

“A person who can summon Death could also be considered the Master of Death,” Harry says, “And if you’re supposing that becoming the Master of Death means they become Death…”

“That seems very cyclical and maybe paradoxical?” Shikako argues, “And I don’t even have anything like the Hallows.”

Harry looks at her and--maybe it’s because they’re surrounded by unending nothingness, but maybe they were always like this--his eyes seeming to glow an ominous, otherworldly green.

“What were you reverse engineering?” he asks.

“A summoning technique?” she answers, uncertain but unable to refuse.

Harry shakes his head, “No--what was the object?” he clarifies, though given how leading the question is, he must somehow already know.

“... a mask,” Shikako admits reluctantly.

“A sword, a necklace, a mask,” Harry lists out, the objects--the Sword of the Thunder God, her Gelel pendant necklace, and the Death God’s Mask--appearing between them as if summoned in the infinite void. Harry continues, “Not too different from a wand, a ring, and a cloak.”

Shikako stares at him. She realizes, belatedly, that not only is he holding the Elder Wand, but he is also wearing both the Peverell ring and the Invisibility Cloak.

She looks at her own versions of the Hallows, the way they beckon to her to hold them, wear them.

She says nothing.

What can you say after being told you might be a god of death?

* * *

* * *

_+1) heal this broken picture_

“And is this the first time you’ve seen a human?” Luna asks, notebook and quill floating at her side, transcribing the exchange and taking other notes of the interview in progress. She is surrounded on all sides by dog like creatures--ninken is the term they self identify with, she’s been told--but most of them only nose at her curiously, tails wagging, or loll about hopefully within petting reach.

Pakkun--one of the smallest ninken, but likely the most respected given his easy claim to the place of honor that is Luna’s lap--snorts. “No, I’ve seen plenty of humans before. I’m contracted to the Hokage, you know,” he says. Luna, in fact, does not know what a Hokage is, but she doesn’t want to interrupt, “But this is the first time I’ve seen one here without a reverse summoning.”

He presses his snout to her belly, sniffing deeply. Luna’s a professional, so she refrains from laughing no matter how ticklish it is--she doesn’t want to insult anyone.

“You don’t smell like one of ours, but you also don’t smell like any of the other clans,” Pakkun decides--other clans of ninken, perhaps? Or is that how the ninken refer to other creatures who live nearby. “How’d you get here if you didn’t reverse summon yourself?”

Luna shakes her head solemnly, “Apologies, I don’t know what that means. Could you explain what reverse summon is?”

Before she finishes asking, some of the ninken--Pakkun included--prick up their ears as if hearing some other sound that Luna cannot. That makes sense, she only has human hearing.

“I’ve gotta cut this short,” Pakkun says, even as one by one, some of his fellows disappear in puffs of smoke, “But if you want to know what summoning is, you can tag along.”

“If you don’t mind,” Luna says, letting Pakkun jump off her lap before getting to her feet. It’s an honor to be included in their customs so quickly, but she doesn’t want to be caught off guard.

“It might be a dangerous situation, but more likely Kakashi’s just trying to avoid paperwork again,” he says. Luna stashes her quill and notebook away just as Pakkun presses a tiny, gentle paw to the top of her foot.

Then, in a puff of smoke and a strange tugging sensation not unlike disapparating, she and Pakkun disappear…

… and reappear in some kind of office. Luna has a moment to register that, the presence of the ninken that had poofed before her, and a tall, lanky man in white robes, black face mask, and a strange pointed hat, before she is surrounded and yanked away by three figures in black robes and white masks.

The part of Luna that fought against Death Eaters years ago recoils at the similarities, reaches for her wand. But the other part of her--the part that has grown up and traveled the world and met all sorts of new and fascinating beings--carefully shows her empty hands, palms out, in peace.

“Hey, don’t do that. She’s my guest,” Pakkun’s low voice calls out, drawing closer as he weaves his way around the legs of the black robed figures and sits at her feet. “You really think I’d bring a threat to Kakashi?” The figures relax, the one with a grip on her upper arm lets go, and they back away with silent half bows as if in apology. Probably to Pakkun, but Luna accepts it anyway.

“A guest?” The man in white asks, crouched down amongst the rest of the ninken who are all greeting him with overly enthusiastic head butts and soggy kisses, before wandering off and giving the same greeting to the figures in black. Now that she examines them closer, they’re not that similar to Death Eaters at all, the masks painted in red, reminiscent of animals.

“Found her in the summon realm,” Pakkun explains, trotting back to the man in white--Kakashi, perhaps?--to claim his own pets now that he’s determined she’s safe, “Somehow got there without reverse summoning, doesn’t smell like any clan in particular so I’m inclined to believe her.” Then, to her, she introduces, “This is my human, Kakashi. He’s somehow Hokage, so if you need help getting back to where you’re from, he’ll probably make someone else do it.”

“How did you get to the summon realm without reverse summoning?” asks one of the black robed figures, the one whose mask has a wide open mouth.

“Mostly walking,” Luna answers easily. She doesn’t include the fact that she was walking through the magical parts of the Valdivian rainforest in Chile, stepped between two trees, and ended up in a completely different forest where she found dog like creatures capable of speaking language, with that language being Japanese. She has long ago learned to accept and adapt to the strangest situations.

“Luna Lovegood, magizoologist,” she introduces herself, “Pleasure to meet you all.”


	2. [[Behind the Scenes/Author’s Notes]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Hi, saebest, I’m glad you enjoyed your gift! Your requests were a little vague but as soon as I saw your Request #2 with this list of vastly different character combos, I knew immediately what I was going to write. So mostly I was worried about if I would characterize them in a way you liked, but apparently you were into it. So, mission success! :D I hope you enjoy this little mini gift as well.]]
> 
> [[Anyway, I’m mostly doing this because the way the scenes are written are very much snapshots of what could be greater fics/worlds and I may very well do future installments/spin offs so having my thought process and “hidden worldbuilding” will help me with that. Or these are just some notes I have on the scenes and tidbits that I thought people might find interesting… And also, this was probably the most I’ve written coherently in such a short amount of time while also having A LOT OF FUN with this exchange so it’s like a little diary to myself, too.]]
> 
> [[There’s no change to the actual text so you can totally disregard this chapter. Sorry for maybe getting people’s hopes up with a “chapter update,” but do not worry: if I DO make those possible future installments/spin offs they will be separate pieces put in the same series.]]

**_[[So, for those who aren’t saebest, the only tags for this request were the following: Golden Trio (HP) & Lucky Sevens | Team 7 (DoS), Hogwarts Faculty (HP) & Lucky Sevens | Team 7 (DoS), Regulus Black (HP) & Nara Shikako (DoS), Nara Shikako (DoS) & Harry Potter (HP), and Hatake Kakashi (DoS) & Luna Lovegood (HP). There were some DNWs, but otherwise I was mostly working off those. And immediately, just from those tags, I knew this was a 4 +1 fic. Also, there’s a pretty clear “one of these things is not like the other,” so I knew that it was a “four times the Lucky Sevens surprised/confused people in the HP world, and one time Luna confused Kakashi.” After that it was just a matter of rearranging them so they were loosely chronological and figuring out when the Lucky Sevens appearing would be most surprising/needed.]] _ **

**_[[Because this fic was more snapshots than continuous plot, I didn’t want to explain how the crossover happened. I mean, canonical interdimensional rifts aside, both sides have magic/space-time jutsu so I didn’t go into it much in the fic itself, but I still thought about it anyway so that process lingered enough for me to put it in the summary. What with the hole loophole, contract thing. And that got me to the title because I wanted poems that had the word loophole in it and I found Tommy Randell’s I will not live in an undiscovered past. Which is a little bleak, understandably, given that it's about surviving childhood abuse, but the theme of surviving against the odds worked well. So the title and each of the subtitles are slightly tweaked phrases from that poem...]]_ **

* * *

_1) at my mother’s table_

**_[[In the longitudinal version of this world, this subtitle would be literal. Like, it would be Regulus at the table with his parents as they talk about the superiority of wizards, talk around the fact that they’ve essentially sold their only remaining son to the Dark Lord, etc. etc. as Regulus basically loses his mind slowly. Like, the whole appearance of nobility when he’s seen and participated in war crimes because of useless prejudice--that dichotomy and the PTSD just warring in his mind. But since the meat of this fic is the meeting, I wanted to get straight to the point of dying in the cave.]]_ **

Regulus is dying. He is dying and he deserves it, the drink of despair coursing through his veins like poison, like the shame and guilt and horror at his own actions on behalf of the Dark Lord. Far too belated to help his victims, far too late to do them any good.

But not too late to avenge them, he hopes for a brief, fleeting moment, imagining an impossible, bright future where Kreacher somehow destroys the Dark Lord’s Horcrux, his foolish older brother’s gang of friends actually manage to defeat the Death Eaters, and perhaps Albus Dumbledore--the only man the Dark Lord ever feared--would finally do his damn duty and fight.

But this drop of optimism is washed away, a flood of fear drowning it, and all these damned water metaphors do nothing because he is so thirsty, dying of it.

The lake! The lake, so close and so full. If he can just get to the shore, just dip his hand in, just to drink, a small drink.

**_[[I am so weirdly pleased at this line, because the choppiness and the exclamation point is so unlike what I imagine Regulus’ thoughts normally flow that this is like. Unreliable narrator because of poison induced delirium! :D Or, at least, I felt like that’s what I was doing here.]]_ **

Just close enough to reach.

Regulus forgets, in his delirium and desperation, that there is more in the lake than just water. Or perhaps he doesn’t forget. Perhaps he is just so thirsty, so eager to quench this magical thirst that all he cares about is the water, the soothing, cooling water.

He drags himself to the shore, face mere inches above the lake’s surface, his reflection already the grotesque corpse he knows it is destined to become.

He reaches for the water, his reflection reaching back. Then through. Pale, skeletal arm breaching the surface and grabbing, pulling, dragging, drowning!

Regulus is dying. He is dying and he deserves it and is prepared for it…

… but Regulus doesn’t want to die.

I don’t want to die, he thinks, even as he weakly thrashes against the inferi’s grip. I don’t want to die, he thinks, as more of them appear, grabbing and pulling, into the water that he had been so desperate to reach before.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want it to end like this. Someone help me!

**_[[I spent a while trying to figure out the mechanics of this. Like, if somehow Regulus’ dying will and determination somehow overrode the Dark Mark so that he would still somehow have to be a servant to someone and that someone would somehow have to match the criteria of “defeated an evil snake man that tried to become immortal”--which is the ending line I went with--or maybe was pissed off at the Horcruxes existing--which was masterfully covered in “to wage war with the lines of darkness” for floweringbloom’s gift. But then I figured, eh, magic.]]_ **

**_[[In a “next scene” of this world, I think I would have tried to go into it though. Since for all that the Lucky Sevens do hate undead and creepy old snake men trying for immortality, they are still shinobi and shinobi are technically mercenaries. Gotta pay for a mission. Either that or Regulus is contracted to Shikako because of a Life Debt thing? I dunno, their fates are tied together until Voldemort is defeated, basically.]]_ **

“Yeah, alright,” a voice says, young and completely out of place, right before a sword--crackling and bright--slashes through the arms holding him down, “But mostly because I really hate the undead.”

Now freed, Regulus splutters, hacking and coughing up water. He thirsts, still, but the mortal danger has reordered his priorities. 

A hand fists itself into the back of his robes. He flinches away at first, instinctively, before he realizes he’s not being dragged down, but lifted up. To his feet. And his wand--which he had somehow forgotten in all this, discarded in his delirious crawl to the lake’s edge--is placed into his hand. He’s shaking so hard he can barely grip it, but the hand that secures him, while smaller, is far steadier.

**_[[Wizards are probably ludicrously physically weak. So I kind of liked the idea of Shikako being able to pick up Regulus with one hand like an unruly kitten even though he is way taller than her.]]_ **

“Are you okay?” says the voice behind the hand, a young woman shorter than him in strange garb. Behind her, Regulus can spot more people in similarly unfamiliar clothing--a young man near her age with dark hair, fending off inferi with a sword of white light; an older man with hair gone grey but sprightly nonetheless, somehow walking on the surface of the lake; and an alarming number of identical blondes all of whom are, horrifyingly, trying to fight the inferi with their fists.

**_[[Like, I know I’ve been talking about magic and chakra like they are interchangeable, but the application, at least, are vastly different and so having Regulus trying to explain Team Seven’s abilities was fun. Also, shadow clone is probably REALLY WEIRD to wizards.]]_ **

“Fire,” Regulus rasps out, because he is soaked and dying and either he or the world has gone mad but on the off chance neither of them have, he may as well aid in their continued survival. “Inferi are weak to fire.”

“Huh, that’s useful,” the young woman says, before calling out something to her fellows--each of them changing tack in response, the dark haired man going so far as to _set himself on fire_. The woman, however, looks up at Regulus, perfectly calm, and so he suppresses his confusion and panic. “Thank you for that intel,” she says, “You’ve got some kind of toxin in your system, but I don’t know enough healing to filter it out of your system for you. I could try something else if it needs urgent treatment?”

A kind offer, on top of already saving his life, but Regulus isn’t going to let a novice attempt mysterious medical practices on his person, “Not fatal,” he says, voice rough from the near drowning and also the parched throat, “No antidote, but it’ll pass…” He hesitates, a foolish, weak habit, but he also doesn’t want to seem ungrateful by asking for more. But he is still so thirsty. “Water?” 

“Sure,” she says with an easy shrug, conjuring--or, no, it’s not transfiguration at all--a metal canteen into her hand, “I have a packet you can add to it, if you need electrolyte--oh, well, okay...” she trails off as Regulus behaves positively boorish, snatching the canteen from her and drinking from it without even allowing her to finish speaking.

But he drinks and he drinks, the canteen endless, and without the threat of inferi--or, that is, with an increasingly lowered threat of inferi--the quenching of his thirst is the only thing his mind can focus on.

That is, until the young woman says, “Now let’s talk about how to stop a creepy old snake guy from becoming immortal.”

* * *

_2) upright in the gloom_

**_[[This is another subtitle that could have been literal, if I started this world at the appearance of the Lucky Sevens. It would have been something like the four Lucky Sevens just appearing in the ominous flickering flames of the Goblet of Fire and freaking out everyone in the Great Hall. But I didn’t know how to resolve the obvious, like, concern that would be involved there and I really wanted Sasuke to be so unimpressed with the whole situation. The good part, as it were.]]_ **

“It’s a flaming cup with enough sentience to be tricked by genjutsu but not enough sentience to protect itself from being tricked and they let it pick teenagers for a dangerous competition based on names?” Sasuke summarizes dryly after Shikako has translated the situation as best she could.

“It’s a goblet... and the tournament isn’t any more dangerous from the chuunin exams, from what I can tell,” Shikako demurs, a defense so mild it hardly counts.

“But they don’t even get to have their teammates!” Naruto exclaims, causing the circle of magicians to eye them warily. Kakashi-sensei, with his lone visible eye, does his best to reciprocate.

Shikako shrugs.

“And even after they already knew it was tampered with,” Sasuke continues, almost horrified with how stupid the tale is, “They decided to accept the flaming cup’s--”

“--goblet--”

“--chosen champions. Including the fourth one. Even though the flaming cup--”

“--goblet--”

“--is only supposed to choose three. And they didn’t even bring it to a sealing master to get it checked?” Sasuke finishes, so incredulous it hurts. He joins Kakashi-sensei in staring down the circle of magicians with disparaging disbelief.

“... yes,” Shikako says, voice thick with secondhand embarrassment on behalf of the Hogwarts faculty, “... that’s correct.”

“Then I don’t see why they should have a problem with us being here,” Sasuke says stubbornly, crossing his arms to punctuate.

Shikako snorts, “You don’t see why they might have a problem with a team of unknown people suddenly appearing in the middle of their school? Their school full of children.” Konoha would have immediately responded with considerable force to an infiltration attempt at the Academy, suspicious staring is mild in comparison. Although that may just be proving Sasuke’s point:

“Their school full of children that they let a flaming cup--”

“--goblet--”

“--whatever, goblet, fine--it still decides their fates.” Sasuke huffs.

“And ours, apparently,” Kakashi-sensei finally says. Given the way Sasuke tenses further and falls silent at that, their sensei has hit on the uncomfortable, unspoken question.

Why did the Goblet of Fire bring them here?

“Maybe Goblet-san was trying to fix its mistake,” Naruto suggests, breaking the oppressive silence.

The rest of the team look at him in various level of surprise and confusion.

“What?” Shikako asks.

“Well, Goblet-san made a mistake when it was under a genjutsu, right?” Naruto explains, “And even though it’s not Goblet-san’s fault, it still put a kid who’s not even a genin yet into the chuunin exams.”

**_[[My Naruto voice is not the best because there are so many takes on him--but I like the “spirit is enough to make up for the minimal understanding” vibes. Also, is Mr. Ukki his or Kakashi’s? Either way it feels like Naruto was the one who named Mr. Ukki. And to go with the whole sad childhood thing, he is probably used to personifying objects and imagining them being kinder than the rando adults.]]_ **

Not exactly right, but close enough. “Okay,” Shikako says, encouragingly.

“But there’s only supposed to be one person per village in this exam.” Naruto continues, the mixed metaphors somehow following his train of thought, “And there was already a genin for this village. Which means the Academy kid doesn’t have a village, even though he’s still in the exam.”

Shikako nods, “Right… so?”

“Well, maybe we’re supposed to be his village. Maybe that’s why Goblet-san brought us here! Maybe we’re here to make sure nothing bad happens to the Academy kid outside of the exams and also train him so he can put up a good fight against the genin!” Naruto finishes, excited at the prospect of a cool mission and a fun competition, even if it’s not him competing.

Shikako considers it, turns to Sasuke and Kakashi-sensei who are also considering it. Sasuke rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything against the idea. Kakashi-sensei shrugs, “I don’t see why not. He can’t be any more trouble than you three.”

**_[[:D Okaaaaaaay… don’t worry, in a “future scene” of this world, Kakashi does actually meet the Golden Trio and is just like… *intense exhausted sigh* jinxed myself]]_ **

Shikako smiles, “That settles it, then,” she says, before turning to the Hogwarts faculty and explaining their decision.

Even through the language barrier, it’s easy to interpret the surprise, confusion, and denial that the adult magicians respond with...

… but the scrawny kid with glasses looks at them with hope on his face so, really, that decides the matter right there and then.

* * *

_3) those unending fables_

**_[[I chose this as the subtitle because of the Room of Requirement, mainly. But nothing especially symbolic about this otherwise nor particularly leading to a different scene.]]_ **

Harry opens the door.

Harry opens the door not knowing what will be inside, but hoping it’ll be something new, something useful, something that will _actually make the DA strong enough to defend themselves_ and not just a bunch of school children waving disarming spells against seasoned killers.

Harry opens the door not knowing what will be inside, because as he paced back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in that seventh floor hallway, his head had been muddled. Thoughts twisting about what the DA needed, what he needed to help the DA, what they needed to give them an edge that wouldn’t have the Order continuously dismissing them, what they needed to be able to survive the Death Eaters.

**_[[The only difference between Harry and Shikako at this point--children seeing an incoming future of crazy powerful killers and being responsible for other children being strong enough to survive it--is that Shikako has the advantage of competent adults who would help her if she BOTHERED TO SAY ANYTHING whereas Harry does actually try to ask for help and CONSTANTLY GETS IGNORED. So… luckily for him, the Team Seven are adults who can and will help him.]]_ **

Harry opens the door, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not this: an expansive blue sky, trees and grass, a stream cutting through a field with a red bridge above it. In the distance, the tops of unusually shaped buildings, and even further away a massive mountain with what looks like faces carved into it. Up close, three strangers all looking at him in surprise.

Harry opens the door and must make some kind of sound because Ron and Hermione--on watch for the Inquisitorial Squad--go to his side, peeking into the doorway, and spotting the… room?... for themselves. Meanwhile, two of the strangers turn to the third, expectant, only for her to shrug and say something in a strange language.

**_[[While I know language barrier will be extremely annoying in a longer term fic, I find it both convenient and hilarious in shorter fic. Probably in a longer term fic, the language barrier would be resolved either by the Room, a spell, or sealing. Although, I’ve already thought about it and I know for sure that the shinobi will not allow a spell to be cast on them. They would insist the wizards cast the spell of understanding on themselves (which they should, anyway) or they’d encourage Shikako to make a thing.]]_ **

“Bloody hell, this place is huge!” Ron says, looking about, “I didn’t know the Room could make places this big.”

“I don’t think the Room made this place,” Hermione says, “I mean, unless this is all exceptionally thorough illusionary magic--which we’ve proven it’s not since we were able to interact with objects in the Room last week--then it’s more likely the Room created an opening to wherever this is,” she rambled, hypotheses on the Room’s capabilities discarded, adjusted, and created as she spoke, “Since I doubt even Hogwarts has enough magic to create a whole environment much less people,”

Speaking of people. “Er, hello?” Harry tries, because the whole ‘unknown language’ thing doesn’t bode well, but given from their point of view Harry and Ron and Hermione all just invaded their space, the strangers are being surprisingly non hostile.

**_[[It’s because they have you surrounded and also you’re already under a genjutsu which makes you see them five feet away from where they actually are.]]_ **

“Hello,” the woman says, and before Harry can wonder if it’s just a matter of her repeating what he said, she continues, “You’re far from home, aren’t you?”

**_[[If anyone asks how Shikako knows English, she’ll imply it has something to do with Gelel...]]_ **

“Not really?” Harry says.

“Yeah, on this side of the door, we’re still home.” Ron adds, gesturing to what, for them is still the Hogwarts seventh floor hallway.

“Fair enough.” the woman accedes easily, “I suppose this makes us temporary neighbors, then.”

Her two companions stare, watchful but not concerned. Also, a little blankly. Not the same way Crabbe and Goyle do as they flank Malfoy--as if they had a quota on thoughts and didn’t want to use it up too soon--but literally uncomprehending of the words being said.

“So…” the woman continues, “Why are you here?” she asks simply, which Harry appreciates. “Or, rather, why did you have _your_ ‘here’ meet _our_ ‘here’?” Which is less simple, but not entirely wrong, he supposes.

Why did the Room bring them here?

“That’s it?” Hermione asks, tone in that mix of baffled and pointed she gets whenever he and Ron slack off on their essays in order to do basically anything else instead, “Not who we are or how we got here? Just, why?”

“Well, who you are largely depends on why you’ve brought yourselves unannounced to my home. At this point, you’re strangers, so your names don’t mean nearly as much as your intentions. As for the how,” the woman shrugs again, “it’s not the first time I’ve dealt with an interdimensional rift, though you are far more pleasant to deal with than an eldritch god of destruction and suffering.”

**_[[I do think Adult!Shikako is probably going to be such a relief to Harry in terms of knowledge given. Not because Harry necessarily understands everything she says and definitely not because Shikako will tell him everything (I mean, canon, she loves her secrets, although maybe that won’t apply so much here? Then again, if she did know about secret seventh horcrux that is his scar, she wouldn’t tell him straight out until after she had some kind of solution for it so there is some secret keeping there). ANYWAYS, I do think Shikako would be frank with him on the things she thinks he needs to know which is a lot more than the adults of the Wizarding World would prefer. And for the things she doesn’t think he needs to know, she’ll at least be able to phrase it in such a way that he won’t be as annoyed or that will redirect his focus back on things he can do instead. Or, at least, say it in a bizarre enough way that he wouldn’t know that he’s been deflected.]]_ **

What?

“What?” Hermione asks, the question strangled and warped with confusion, curiosity, and horror.

One of her companions, the one with dark hair, says something. Looking at her and the, no doubt, alarmed expressions on their faces. She responds sheepishly, the blonde laughs, and the dark haired man rolls his eyes.

“Sorry about that. Sasuke says I shouldn’t inflict my terrible sense of humor on other people,” the woman says which explains absolutely nothing, “But since he’s not my captain anymore, he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.”

Now that’s something, “Captain like in an army?”

“Could be for quidditch,” Ron mutters, as if compelled to say so even though he didn’t really believe it himself.

“No,” the woman says, “not for the army.” Which brings Harry’s hopes down just a little, before she continues, “For covert ops. Although, during the war, I technically outranked him. But that’s mostly because at the start I had to deal with managing the platoons while he actually got deployed with them.”

**_[[Shikaku and Tsunade kind of tricked her by saying her expertise meant she’d know the best team formations to send after which Akatsuki members. I mean, accurate, but this may have been after she (single-handedly?) went after Danzo so they’re like. TAKE A SMALL BREAK, PLEASE, BEFORE THROWING YOURSELF AT ANOTHER S-RANK FIGHT.]]_ **

“So you know how to run an army,” Harry says, that twisted web of thoughts untangling.

“Harry!” Hermione gasps, though he can’t tell what she means by it.

The woman shrugs, “Enough.”

“And you won your war? Everyone survived?” Harry asks, voice thick with something, he doesn’t know, but it makes the woman stare for a long, riveting moment, before her expression and tone both soften.

“We won,” she says, simply, deliberately stepping aside the second question, “Is that why you’re here? You need an army?”

“Yeah,” Ron says.

“No!” Hermione says.

Harry doesn’t listen to their argument, doesn’t turn to look at them. He maintains eye contact with the woman and says, “We need to win a war.”

**_[[I know I maybe didn’t represent Ron and Hermione that well here since it is Harry’s POV and he’s understandably distracted, but I kind of feel like this is the whole dynamic of the Golden Trio. Strategically, Ron is right--an outside army to fight their battles is what they need. Because he was the one to lose the most in the war. He’s the one who is so entrenched in the Wizarding World that having someone else fight the battles is the best way to protect his family who would otherwise be on the frontlines. Ideally, Hermione is right--getting an army would only escalate the current tensions and add an unknown third party. But Harry’s the one who focuses on the main goal. Army or no, we have to win the war. If the war can be won without an army, then great.]]_ **

She turns to her companions, says something to them and they listen, consider, nod. The dark haired man conjures a hawk, speaks to it before sending it flying back towards the town in the distance. The blonde man _duplicates himself_ for a moment, before the copy disappears in a puff of smoke.

**_[[Shadow clone is SO DISTURBING to wizards. The Weasley twins want to learn it immediately.]]_ **

Then the woman turns back to him and smiles, a sharp and vicious thing, “We can help with that.” 

* * *

_4) shrines never made_

**_[[Ascended godhood nonsense is my jam and could have very easily given me away. The subtitle is thus both obvious and possibly a lie because maybe shrines WILL get made? Yeah? Maybe? Anyway, this section is the longest because I love ascended godhood nonsense.]]_ **

When Shikako walks through the vast emptiness of what she hopes is sealing space and not, in fact, purgatory she walks for what must be an entire lifetime before finding something else. Someone else, that is.

The man with dark hair, green eyes, and a shimmering cloak looks at her and asks, “Oh, you too?”

“Me too what?” Shikako asks, the words so simple they crash into each other, molecules of air in an atmosphere that doesn’t exist. Not here.

He pauses, confused by her confusion, which frankly seems a little unfair given he barely asked a proper question and there is literally nothing about this place that could provide context.

**_[[Harry is not used to having more information than someone else.]]_ **

“Are you Death?” he asks instead, which is so far on the other side of answerability of questions that Shikako immediately denies it:

“No,” she says, quick and sharp. Then, slower and softer, “... are you?”

“I’m… fairly sure I’m not,” he answers, the lack of confidence not exactly inspiring.

They stare at each other.

There is nothing else in this place to look at.

“What did you mean by you too?” Shikako finally asks, because if this is her only company for who knows how long, it’d be best not to alienate him. “I’m Shikako, by the way.”

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you,” says Harry, pleasantries making for a quick response, “And, well, I assumed maybe you also collected the Hallows.” He says the last word with almost visible importance, but it’s tinged with an almost conflicted contempt.

Shikako looks down at herself. Ever since hammerspace, she never really carried much on her person--so she doesn’t have much in the way of pouches or pockets. Even if she did, would they still contain the physical items or is it all just a mental representation of herself? Can she even access hammerspace from here?

“What are the Hallows?” she asks instead. Maybe she did collect them but without knowing what they are.

“Do you want the quick version or the fairy tale?” Harry asks.

Shikako looks around them, the open blankness that stretches in all directions, then back at Harry. “I don’t think there’s anything else I’m scheduled for today,” she says dryly, before adding far more sincerely, “And I do like a good story.”

**_[[Sassy Shikako! I regret not being able to fit in Sassy Harry, but he is dealing with existential realizations so *shrug*]]_ **

She crosses her legs and lowers herself to the not-ground, as if she were a child waiting for story time. She even pats the not-ground next to her in invitation.

“It’s not that good a story,” Harry mutters, but he drops down beside her, so Shikako certainly won’t complain.

“It starts with a river, a broken bridge, and three brothers…” he begins, reluctant, but the words and the cadence speaks of a story often told and well remembered, and the recitation of it takes over before long.

He’s right, though, it’s not that good a story. Two of the brothers die in grisly, gruesome ways, and while the third had a fulfilling life it doesn’t make up for the bleak undertone of the whole thing. Not to mention the real life effects of the items: Dark Lords and Headmasters; traitors and loyal servants; inheritance, rights by conquest, futile attempts at immortality, and the boy stuck in the middle of it all.

“So because you’re the only one who owned all of them at the same time, you’re stuck here?” Shikako asks, now that would be a terrible ending.

“I guess,” Harry says, fiddling with the stick-- _the_ Deathstick--in his hand.

“Your Headmaster got awfully close,” Shikako says, “He had the cloak and the wand before you went to school. If he had been proactive about getting rid of Tom instead of waiting to use you, he could’ve looked into Tom’s significant places and found the ring way earlier.”

**_[[I legit do not know if that is a good or bad AU. Because, uh, I have conflicting headcanons about Dumbledore and it changes on whatever fic I’m reading. So, on the one hand--if Dumbledore had actually been proactive in fixing the mess he made instead of waiting for his child sacrifice to do it for him--then he probably would have defeated Voldemort way sooner. On the other hand, Master of Death Dumbledore is very grimace inducing as a concept.]]_ **

The wide-eyed expression on Harry’s face could just as easily be heartbreak or horror, maybe both.

She looks away from his face, somewhat guiltily, eyes the dark, cracked ring on his finger instead. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ve encountered anything like those items before,” Shikako says, shrugging.

**_[[Like Naruto’s relationship with the Sandaime, Shikako doesn’t understand why Harry is emotionally attached to Dumbledore, but does understand that loss hurts and realizing things about your “heroes” after the fact is a twisting, conflicting thing.]]_ **

“Yeah, I figured not, but still. I had to ask,” Harry says with a sigh.

“It could be I--maybe--might know…” Shikako starts, stops, stammers her way into an explanation, “... given your story and what I can remember of what I was working on before I got here--wherever here is--I think I might know why I also ended up here.”

He stares at her, curiosity obvious.

“It could still be two different things, though,” Shikako hedges. She doesn’t want to be misleading, after all, “I mean, we could both be dead and this is a really weird afterlife.”

“Great,” Harry says with all the cheer it deserves. “And the other option?”

She hesitates, “Before I ended up here, I was working on a technique. Well, trying to reverse engineer a technique, more like,” Shikako pauses, “Actually, now that I think of it, there could be a third option.”

“You didn’t even finish saying the second option,” Harry prompts impatiently.

“What was the title again? Master of Death?” Shikako asks, seeking confirmation.

Harry nods, then makes a gesture as if to say ‘get on with it’.

“Well... the technique I was trying to reverse engineer was to summon the god of death in order to have it enter a contract,” Shikako admits, grimacing at how awful it sounds spoken out loud.

Harry stares at her.

He says nothing.

**_[[I don’t know if Harry had a normal, human realization or, if in speaking the truth out loud, Shikako somehow activated the god part of him that suddenly had to integrate all the knowledge that the god of death has.]]_ **

She understands. If someone implied she was the god of death she doesn’t know what she would say either.

“There’s always the third option which is a fun combination of the two?” she says, grimace now a painful apologetic smile.

Still, Harry says nothing.

“I could have failed horribly and you’re supposed to tell me a story about the hubris of humankind trying to outsmart Death before I shuffle off in whatever direction of afterlife I’m supposed to go in,” she says, even though Harry probably isn’t all that interested in what she has to say now. Though she does appreciate the fact that he didn’t just get up and storm off...

... after a not-lifetime of awkward silence, Harry finally says, “I think you’re selling yourself short here.”

Confused, Shikako asks, “How so?”

“A person who can summon Death could also be considered the Master of Death,” Harry says, “And if you’re supposing that becoming the Master of Death means they become Death…”

“That seems very cyclical and maybe paradoxical?” Shikako argues, “And I don’t even have anything like the Hallows.”

**_[[Ascended godhood nonsense! I can do whatever I want! :D]]_ **

Harry looks at her and--maybe it’s because they’re surrounded by unending nothingness, but maybe they were always like this--his eyes seeming to glow an ominous, otherworldly green.

“What were you reverse engineering?” he asks.

“A summoning technique?” she answers, uncertain but unable to refuse.

Harry shakes his head, “No--what was the object?” he clarifies, though given how leading the question is, he must somehow already know.

“... a mask,” Shikako admits reluctantly.

“A sword, a necklace, a mask,” Harry lists out, the objects--the Sword of the Thunder God, her Gelel pendant necklace, and the Death God’s Mask--appearing between them as if summoned in the infinite void. Harry continues, “Not too different from a wand, a ring, and a cloak.”

**_[[This wasn’t planned; the three items being alternate Hallows only came to me after I wiki’d who canonically summoned the Shinigami. Then I had to figure out how they did it and how Shikako would get her hands on it. I was originally thinking it would be, like, notes in the Hokage’s office or something--like, Minato’s many fuinjutsu notes that Sandaime packed up and didn’t give to Naruto for some reason and Tsunade was way to busy and didn’t recognize it for what it was, but then when Kakashi became Hokage he was like. I know what this is, and so it was found way later and Naruto being a good friend and also, not that into fuinjutsu even though it’s something both his parents are into and that’s a little bit sad, the whole, loss of familial knowledge thing decided to pass it onto Shikako even though Shikako feels a little guilty about the whole… but this is your inheritance thing…]]_ **

**_[[But then it turns out, there’s a cool Uzumaki mask that Orochimaru stole and Shikako would definitely feel no guilt about reclaiming that for her use, ie Sword of the Thunder God. And also, a mask is just way cooler than “some random pile of papers.” Also-also more thematic.]]_ **

Shikako stares at him. She realizes, belatedly, that not only is he holding the Elder Wand, but he is also wearing both the Peverell ring and the Invisibility Cloak.

She looks at her own versions of the Hallows, the way they beckon to her to hold them, wear them.

She says nothing.

What can you say after being told you might be a god of death?

* * *

* * *

_+1) heal this broken picture_

**_[[Originally, this section was planned to be a lot sadder. It involved Luna saying the phrase “people say I look too much like my mother, too” and Kakashi being, like, stricken. Emotionally. And getting closure about his unnamed, unknown dead mom. (Because he was wearing face masks before Sakumo died which means the mask thing isn’t a Sakumo thing even if people think he looks like his dad. It’s the height and the hair! That’s it!) And then summoning his ninken afterwards for comfort and also to meet Luna. But then I realized, hey, I’m doing this backwards: the ninken are Luna’s in to get to Kakashi.]]_ **

“And is this the first time you’ve seen a human?” Luna asks, notebook and quill floating at her side, transcribing the exchange and taking other notes of the interview in progress. She is surrounded on all sides by dog like creatures--ninken is the term they self identify with, she’s been told--but most of them only nose at her curiously, tails wagging, or loll about hopefully within petting reach.

Pakkun--one of the smallest ninken, but likely the most respected given his easy claim to the place of honor that is Luna’s lap--snorts. “No, I’ve seen plenty of humans before. I’m contracted to the Hokage, you know,” he says. Luna, in fact, does not know what a Hokage is, but she doesn’t want to interrupt, “But this is the first time I’ve seen one here without a reverse summoning.”

He presses his snout to her belly, sniffing deeply. Luna’s a professional, so she refrains from laughing no matter how ticklish it is--she doesn’t want to insult anyone.

**_[[Magizoologist Luna is a Professional. She knows better than to do anything that could be misconstrued as rude.]]_ **

“You don’t smell like one of ours, but you also don’t smell like any of the other clans,” Pakkun decides--other clans of ninken, perhaps? Or is that how the ninken refer to other creatures who live nearby. “How’d you get here if you didn’t reverse summon yourself?”

Luna shakes her head solemnly, “Apologies, I don’t know what that means. Could you explain what reverse summon is?”

**_[[I was teetering back and forth on whether or not to use “kuchiyose” verses summoning, because there is Magical Summoning which is different from Chakra Summoning and I didn’t want those to be mixed up. But I already did that with Hokage and the language barrier wasn’t the point of this misunderstanding, so much as the concept of summoning sentient beings across dimensions being the point.]]_ **

Before she finishes asking, some of the ninken--Pakkun included--prick up their ears as if hearing some other sound that Luna cannot. That makes sense, she only has human hearing.

“I’ve gotta cut this short,” Pakkun says, even as one by one, some of his fellows disappear in puffs of smoke, “But if you want to know what summoning is, you can tag along.”

“If you don’t mind,” Luna says, letting Pakkun jump off her lap before getting to her feet. It’s an honor to be included in their customs so quickly, but she doesn’t want to be caught off guard.

**_[[Luna Lovegood is a Professional and a War Hero.]]_ **

“It might be a dangerous situation, but more likely Kakashi’s just trying to avoid paperwork again,” he says. Luna stashes her quill and notebook away just as Pakkun presses a tiny, gentle paw to the top of her foot.

Then, in a puff of smoke and a strange tugging sensation not unlike disapparating, she and Pakkun disappear…

… and reappear in some kind of office. Luna has a moment to register that, the presence of the ninken that had poofed before her, and a tall, lanky man in white robes, black face mask, and a strange pointed hat, before she is surrounded and yanked away by three figures in black robes and white masks.

The part of Luna that fought against Death Eaters years ago recoils at the similarities, reaches for her wand. But the other part of her--the part that has grown up and traveled the world and met all sorts of new and fascinating beings--carefully shows her empty hands, palms out, in peace.

**_[[Luna Lovegood is an Adult who has Seen Shit but has since Come to Terms and Healed.]]_ **

“Hey, don’t do that. She’s my guest,” Pakkun’s low voice calls out, drawing closer as he weaves his way around the legs of the black robed figures and sits at her feet. “You really think I’d bring a threat to Kakashi?” The figures relax, the one with a grip on her upper arm lets go, and they back away with silent half bows as if in apology. Probably to Pakkun, but Luna accepts it anyway.

**_[[The Actual Hokage is Pakkun; the only reason why Kakashi is wearing the hat and robes is that they’re too big for Pakkun.]]_ **

“A guest?” The man in white asks, crouched down amongst the rest of the ninken who are all greeting him with overly enthusiastic head butts and soggy kisses, before wandering off and giving the same greeting to the figures in black. Now that she examines them closer, they’re not that similar to Death Eaters at all, the masks painted in red, reminiscent of animals.

“Found her in the summon realm,” Pakkun explains, trotting back to the man in white--Kakashi, perhaps?--to claim his own pets now that he’s determined she’s safe, “Somehow got there without reverse summoning, doesn’t smell like any clan in particular so I’m inclined to believe her.” Then, to her, she introduces, “This is my human, Kakashi. He’s somehow Hokage, so if you need help getting back to where you’re from, he’ll probably make someone else do it.”

“How did you get to the summon realm without reverse summoning?” asks one of the black robed figures, the one whose mask has a wide open mouth.

“Mostly walking,” Luna answers easily. She doesn’t include the fact that she was walking through the magical parts of the Valdivian rainforest in Chile, stepped between two trees, and ended up in a completely different forest where she found dog like creatures capable of speaking language, with that language being Japanese. She has long ago learned to accept and adapt to the strangest situations.

**_[[Originally, I was going to include Rolf Scamander. Like, they were there together and then she stepped one way and he stepped the other and then she knew she was in a different place because all of a sudden he was gone. But then I figured her priority would be to locate Rolf and make sure he’s safe instead of going with the flow, so this was became a solo expedition instead.]]_ **

“Luna Lovegood, magizoologist,” she introduces herself, “Pleasure to meet you all.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could also have been titled “Shikako Shrugs A Lot.” Hope you enjoyed, saebest :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [vows under the auspices (only shooting stars)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331612) by [jacksgreyson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreyson)




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